


Someday or Maybe Even Now

by ZoS



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoS/pseuds/ZoS
Summary: She's been dreaming about this day ever since she was a little girl.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 19
Kudos: 188





	Someday or Maybe Even Now

An impatient knock comes on the bedroom door. "Andy, come on, what's taking so long? Andy? I'm coming in," Cassidy announces before turning the doorknob in her hand and pushing inside. "This is the one thing you don't wanna be late--" she begins, catches sight of Andy, and effectively shuts herself up. "--to..."

In front of the large mirror she stands, looking breathtaking and feeling out of breath. The _Vera Wang_ gown is stunning, one of a kind, designed specifically for Andy, every cut and stitch impeccable. She runs her hands as slowly as they will go down the white, delicate fabric, assessing her mirror twin approvingly. Even so, she can't shake her raw nerves, turning an apprehensive glance at Cassidy.

"You look..." Cassidy claims in mesmerized awe, eyes wandering across the designer work of art, then over Andy's carefully, beautifully done hair, her lightly made-up face, the diamond jewelry adorning her skin. Even though she doesn't finish her sentence, Andy gets the drift.

"Yeah?" Her smile is tremulous.

"You're beautiful."

Andy diverts her attention back to the mirror, the smile fading. "I'm nervous," she quietly admits, shaking her hands as if trying to shake the anxiety from her body.

"Why?" Cassidy questions, genuinely confused, and comes closer. "This is good."

"I know, I know--"

"You should be happy."

"I know," Andy answers emphatically. "And I am. It's big."

"It is." Cassidy nods in agreement.

"It's really big."

"Yeah."

"Like, the biggest, most important day of my life."

"You're spiraling, Andy."

"I've been waiting so long, and everyone's gonna be there--oh, god, why were so many people invited--"

" _Andy_ , Andy," Cassidy raises her voice, hands on Andy's shoulders cutting through her panic and turning her around so her wide-eyed look is directed at Cassidy. "Calm down," she orders. "You're gonna ruin your makeup. Take some deep breaths."

Andy does as she's told, inhaling a long breath through her nose and releasing it from her mouth, repeating the process several more times until her heart doesn't feel as though it's about to burst through her chest. "Okay," she whispers eventually. "Okay, I'm good."

"Good," says Cassidy and releases her. "This is a good day, okay? Remember that."

"Yeah." Andy bites her lip before remembering her lip gloss. It's what ultimately, strangely snaps her out of her inner turmoil, the makeup on her face reminding her of the very real event about to take place.

"Where's Miranda?" she questions after shaking her head to clear it. "Is she ready?"

"Has been for ages," Cassidy responds. "Everyone's waiting just for you. The limo's already outside."

"Oh, god. Okay." She strokes her hands down her gown one last time, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. Then she looks at Cassidy again and smiles, less uncertain this time. "Thank you."

Cassidy smiles back and, instead of a verbal response, draws her into her arms. She, herself, is gorgeous in a black, strapless dress that clings to every curve, all the way down to her thighs, and sparkles brilliantly with thousands of silvery glitters. Along with her sister, she's matured into a beautiful, young woman and Andy feels so lucky and privileged to have gotten a front-row seat to their development. "Thank you," she murmurs again into Cassidy's hair, an all-encompassing gratitude, feeling overcome with emotion and appreciation of her life on this special day.

"Okay, you're making it weird," Cassidy declares and disengages to the sound of Andy's chuckle. "Ready to go?"

"I'm ready."

* * *

"The Pulitzer Prize in journalism for investigative reporting is awarded to Andrea Sachs of _The New York Times_ for consequential reporting on the..."

Anything that follows her name is a mere echo in Andy's ears, the whole world becoming very narrow and vague as clapping erupts around the prestigious _Columbia University_ venue. At her side, she only half-registers the subtle tug on her hand, and in a daze, she kisses Miranda's waiting lips before rising from their table to the sound of the applause.

She thinks she does a good job maintaining her external composure while climbing the steps to the stage and accepting her certificate. In reality, she's on autopilot even as she takes her place behind the podium and commences the speech written on a piece of paper that has been folded into a very tiny square to fit inside her clutch.

She talks about her job in general and her winning series in particular, pointing out the importance of investigative journalism in today's society and the need to elevate and protect those who put themselves on the line time and again to provide that crucial service. She probably says some very smart, articulate things and repeatedly utters phrases like "a great honor" and "thank you so much," but despite the word traveling through the grapevine ever since her nomination, claiming that she would, in fact, win, she's still in shock.

"Lastly, I want to thank my long-time partner, Miranda Priestly." When she looks ahead toward the round table several feet away, she sees only Miranda. And Miranda's face is unwontedly warm; although she doesn't smile--she wouldn't--her gaze is focused on Andy and nothing else, approving and loving. Proud.

"You're the reason I do what I do," Andy tells her over the heads of the countless other people that suddenly no longer exist in the room. Her voice catches, and she inhales deply through her nostrils and smiles. "You remind me every day how necessary my job is and how good _I_ am, and you make me want to be even better. You're the reason I've gone on this long, even when I wanted to give up, and this prize"--she holds up the certificate--"is as much yours as it is mine. I love you. Thank you."

The last two words she directs, once again, at her peers and colleagues, who applaud again in support and some obligatory courtesy. Feeling much more like herself, she descends the stage with a brilliant smile and weaves her way through the tables toward her people, camera flashes following her for final photographs before diverting their attention to the next category.

Back with her family and several other respected colleagues, Andy lets out the breath that has been lodged in her chest all afternoon, letting Caroline squeeze her close and Cassidy lean in to pat her hand, basking in the love. On her other side, Miranda takes her hand in hers under the table and doesn't let go for a very long time.

* * *

Later that night, after all phone calls and texts and e-mails have been answered with profuse--albeit recited--gratitude, and after Andy has changed into something more comfortable but still celebratory to go out to dinner, and after abundant alcohol has been had and toasts have been made, and after the kids and friends have said their goodbyes and headed their separate ways, Andy and Miranda return to an empty, quiet house and pop open another bottle of wine.

"You did very good," Miranda comments serenely while Andy watches the dark red liquid pour into her glass, her gaze just that bit unfocused after hours of drinking. The compliment is far more subdued than any other she's gotten throughout the night, yet it's the one that means the most.

"Please," she scoffs, leaning back against the arm of the living room sofa, feet instinctively going into Miranda's lap. "I was so out of it I barely noticed what I was saying up there." Still, she says it with a happy smile. A tired smile--exhausted, even--but happy nonetheless.

Filling her own glass, Miranda places the bottle on the coffee table with a dull _clink_ and reclines as well, saying, "I wasn't just talking about the speech." Impossibly, Andy's smile widens further.

"This prize is only yours--you earned it," Miranda states solemnly. "I'm very proud of you." She leans in, Andy closes the distance, and they share a kiss that tastes of wine and steaks.

"I was so nervous," Andy whispers when they part.

"I noticed."

"I'm so happy now."

Miranda smiles. "Me, too."

**Author's Note:**

> I took a little liberty with the Pulitzer Prize luncheon so don't crucify me if it's not totally accurate.


End file.
